Grama's Coat

Each morning when I wake up I look around the room and see the treasures that have surrounded me during the night.  Paintings by my bestest friend, Caserine, and her mom.  A crewel picture I stitched on my honeymoon driving to the carpet expo in Atlanta--why not combine business with pleasure?  A cabinet Suzie gave us that now holds photo albums and treasures from my mom's kitchen cabinets.  And, there's my Grama's rocker.

Since my grandparents lived across the driveway from us, in their old farm house, I easily spent most of my waking hours there as a kid.  Grama would catch me up on her "stories" every summer (think General Hospital) and we'd hang out while she baked, or made meals, or did laundry or all the other things that happened during her typical day.  Thinking back, I don't remember her ever taking a phone call from a girlfriend, or going out to lunch, or meeting someone at the park to walk.  She was either working around the house and garden or watching her stories.  Of course, there was Bonanza on Sunday nights.

One of my favorite things to do was join her on the porch in the late afternoons, while she rocked and watched the cars go down the road.  My grandparents had been given twin rockers as a wedding present and one stayed on the enclosed porch upstairs while the other was kept in the cool, half-basement where Grandma had her summer kitchen.  I would surprise her a little--"Acht now, you scared me!"-- when I suddenly appeared on the porch but she liked me hanging out with her up there.  We'd talk a teensy bit but mostly watched the cars go by.  No music playing, no TV in the background, no books or magazines.  Just a little chatter and lots of comfortable silence.  My Grandma was good at being still and quiet.

Back to now.  After I finish my coffee in bed I can sorta handle a relationship with the busy world, hearing Uncle Grumpy's long list of plans for things he will accomplish and whatever else reality has in store for me that day.  If things get a little frenzied I take a short break in my closet, where my Grandma's long coat hangs right next to my "fancy" clothes.

It doesn't really make sense, my Grama having a fur coat, but Grampa had walked into Sears Roebuck & Co. one day in the early 60's and bought it for her.  A friend who worked there told me the whole story:  "Yep, your Grampa came in wearing his overalls and flannel shirt and said he wanted to buy the coat.  The salesladies looked at him and didn't think he was serious but he pulled out a rolled-up bundle of cash and that was that."  My frugal grandparents had sold part of their farm just prior to their golden anniversary and had money for the first time in their lives.  What a great guy my Grampa was.  What a romantic.

I'm back in the closet with the coat.  It's a dark fur but I still don't know what poor animals it's made from.  I don't think too long about that.  I reach out to touch the sleeve and savor that feeling, then I face plant in the fur and draw in the scent from so long ago.

It's the 60's again, in a cold month, and I'm sitting in the back seat of the car next to my Grama.  We're coming home from church or maybe it's nighttime and we've been to a family holiday dinner.  I'm sleepy and I snuggle up next to her, with my cheek resting on her sleeve.  I can smell her Avon powder mixed in with the scent of her coat.  It's the most comfortable, quiet and safe place in the world.  And, I'd be just fine if I could stay there forever.

Wishing you Peace and Joy this Christmas season.  I have many ideas about what Heaven will be like and one of my favorites is the thought of me getting to sit on Jesus' lap and having him hold me in his arms, for a long, long time.